Power and Control
by AsteriaLumina
Summary: Elizabeth hated him. Every part of him. But as much as she tried to deny it, he was her undoing and she was his prize. It was a power struggle. But she was breaking, and soon enough, all of her would be his. Lord Beckett would not stop until he shattered her and would ruthlessly pursue her until she was a piece in his realm of control and power. Beckabeth smut.


**= Power and Control =**

**A/N: **Hi lovelies, have some Beckabeth smut. It's my first one! Reviews with your opinions will be much cherished.

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_Power and control, I'm gonna make you fall._

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A soft sigh escaped from her lips as Elizabeth shifted in her bed, the crisp sheets kicked off against the Jamaican heat and the light breeze that lazily meandered through the open terrace doors. Her wispy golden curls clung to her skin with a sheen of sweat, and she dazedly thanked her lucky stars that the tropical nights brought cool breezes to offset the sweltering heat. Before she could comfortably settle back into sleep, however, another body impeded her migration to the other side of the spacious bed and caused her honey-gold eyes to pop open in surprise.

"What do you want, Cutler? Can't a woman get a night's sleep in peace without being badgered? It's not like you don't annoy me during the day already," Elizabeth dryly murmured, shivering slightly as her hip was traced with his fingers, which were calloused and covered in ink. No doubt he had just finished working out the company ledgers, as per usual.

"And since when was it wrong for a man to desire the company of his _beloved _wife, my lady?" Lord Beckett replied crisply, letting his hand trail under her chemise and along the smooth skin of her waist. His gold signet ring left an icy path along the warm flesh and Elizabeth's body involuntarily clenched, inhaling as the intoxicating scent of masculine cologne blended seamlessly with the faint fragrance of his favorite Herbin ink, accented with the barest note of aged, fine port. It was a scent that was uniquely his, and it clouded her thoughts as her body yielded to his touch.

"Learn your place," Beckett warned, grabbing her chin and forcing her to look up at him, his frosty eyes drilling into her warm ones dangerously.

Her elegant fingers twisted into the white muslin of his shirt, running against the lightly toned planes of his chest and Elizabeth silently cursed herself for giving in with such ease.

"I thought so, my dear," her husband smirked, before leaning down and catching her lips into a kiss that caused a warm rush to roll across her entire frame. His lips were feverish and loaded with unkempt passion, nothing at all like the usual neat, concise kisses that he would occasionally grant her in the morning. The headiness of sensation prevented the flushed Elizabeth from questioning his sudden passion further as the onslaught of his mouth ensnared her senses and took her breath away. The way his lips perfectly melded to hers, the gentle tug of her lip with his teeth, the flick of his tongue filled her with a flare of wildness, and she suddenly couldn't get enough.

Her resolve fractured when Beckett's arms snaked around her waist and pulled her fully against him, burying his lips into the nook of her neck and assailing the sensitive spot with searing open-mouthed kisses that left much more to be desired. She could feel every curve and inch of him.

"I despise you," came her whisper, as she knotted her fingers into his pristine white wig and pulled him ever closer, encouraging the roughly given marks that he left behind in his destruction of her perfect, pale neck.

"You can continue loathing all you like, Lady Beckett, but we both know you want this. Just as you do every other time you attempt to resist me," he spoke against the hollow of her throat, hands roaming to the bodice of the flimsy silk that covered her and swiftly undoing the tiny pearl buttons that shielded her from his gaze. At her glare of loathing, he bit her, hard, leaving shockingly red marks on the pale skin of her neck.

"But I _will _break you, and you won't be able to resist me, Elizabeth. I want to shatter your resolve," Beckett darkly continued in a low voice that seemed to fit the balmy heat, cool hands traveling up the flat of her stomach to her perfectly rounded breasts, "Until you succumb to me without an ounce of fighting spirit left in that little soul of yours. Control you, just as I control everything else. You are my property. The property of the East India Trading Company."

"Power gained from misdeed and cruelty," Elizabeth gasped, feeling warmth pool between her legs as his teeth harshly nipped against her collarbone, sending a streak of pain and pleasure to her core. "You are a cruel man, Cutler Beckett, and I despise you."

"Yet here you are, yielding to me, bearing my title and reaping the benefits of being the wife of the most influential man in the East India Trading Company," Beckett retaliated smugly, pushing her chemise over her shoulders and tossing it behind his shoulder, where it landed in some dark corner of the bedroom, destined to be forgotten until a nameless chambermaid would pick it up knowingly.

"It's certainly advantageous to be on the winning side when you've got nothing left to lose," she whispered, eyes falling closed as Beckett pushed her onto her back, settling himself between her legs. His lips gravitated toward her breasts, taking one of them into his mouth and she restrained a quiet whimper as he swept his tongue across it teasingly.

The pulse of desire that convulsed her body grew more urgent as Cutler's lips increasingly lowered, eliciting a quiver from her when his hands grasped at her thighs. He showered kisses against the silky skin on the inside of her thigh, tracing his tongue along the column of her perfect leg until he neared that center of paradisical pleasure, only to draw back. His thumbs glided across the tops of her thighs, pushing them wider apart and allowing his fingers to dip into the apex of her legs as his intense, icy eyes flicked up to drink in her lovely, flushed features.

"Tell me what you want, Elizabeth."

"No," she breathed, tensing up at the wave of need and desire flashing up her spine from his stroking fingers.

"You want this," he smirked, taking satisfaction from the slight part of her rosy lips at his generous ministrations.

"I don't particularly care at all."

"Oh, but I think you do, pet. I think you want me to take you, until every step that you take tomorrow causes you to ache deliciously, bringing to mind what I did to you." His honeyed voice filled her ears, impossibly seductive as she fought and failed to block it out. "I think you want me to _fuck _you, Elizabeth."

Before she could refute, his lips replaced his fingers and her back arched sharply, a stifled moan escaping her lips as he relentlessly tortured her with teasing flicks and dips of his tongue.

Her body was in ecstatic agony, unbridled need and her hands quickly dug themselves underneath the peerless wig her husband wore, pushing it off and knotting her fingers into the dark locks of hair hidden underneath that symbol of prestige and power that he so craved and valued.

"God …"

"I don't believe God is making you feel this way, love," he responded darkly, nipping the inside of her thighs almost painfully.

A whine of disappointment let loose from her throat as he pulled away and reclaimed her aching lips, dominating them as the evidence of his need for her pressed against her bare stomach. He kissed her languidly, lazily tugging at her lips with his teeth and dragging his tongue against hers in determined seduction.

Elizabeth's senses were on fire, from sight to touch. Her skin was ablaze from his worshipful caresses, and she could taste the remnants of the expensive port on his lips as her teeth roughly closed down onto his lip and grazed it. Beckett reared slightly, studying her in the dim candlelight of the room and drinking in the sight of her bright eyes and the part of her delectable lips that promised much. An immense feeling of satisfaction came over the monopolizing Lord Beckett, kindling a flame within him as he gazed upon the prey that he had fought to win and possess. And it was bloody well worth it.

"At this rate, I'll be asleep before you can even lay another hand on me." Her mirthless murmur cut the thick silence, luring a scowl from him as he pinned her into the sheets, smirking at the sudden gasp the action elicited.

"Do you really believe I would allow you to sleep, dearest?" He gently stroked the back of his hand against her porcelain cheek, pressing himself into her as Elizabeth's neck arced invitingly. "You sleep when I consent, and you will stay awake if I wish it so."

"And you wonder why I think you're a complete wanker. An absolutely insufferable, arrogant bastard who—"

Her colorful vocabulary glissando'd into an impassioned exclamation of shock as he suddenly pushed forward, muffling a groan into her naked shoulder, squeezing her waist tightly whilst her nails dug into his back. Lips found each other and Beckett grabbed her shapely leg, hooking it around his waist before losing himself in her, feeling the delicious quiver of her frame as she desirously arched against him, teeth sinking into her bottom lip and sending a pulse of want through his veins.

"You are mine," he growled into her ear, brushing his lips across the shell of her ear and dragging a quiet whimper from her lips.

"Never," Elizabeth blindly whimpered, wanting nothing more than for him to take her, frantic and breathless with flushed cheeks.

And with that, he drove into her, pushing her into the sheets roughly as he grabbed her slim wrists hard and pinned them above her halo of honey locks, unable to contain the fiery need that Elizabeth ignited in him. He was relentless, unyielding, his unforgiving fingers bound to leave blossoming bruises on her delicate hips. Her body tightened around him and as he nudged her to the brink of blissful oblivion, she became undone, cries muffled into his shoulder.

His control was slipping, slipping and irreparably shattering as she tensed tightly and clung to him as if he were her pillar, holding her against the tidal wave of incomparable sensation that overtook her senses like a raging, unrelenting storm.

Elizabeth's mind was clouded, and she was barely aware when her husband finally lowered down beside her, gently touching his lips to her forehead before pulling her into his arms with triumph.

She hated him. But as much as she tried to deny it, he was her undoing and she was his prize. It was a power struggle. But she was breaking, and soon enough, all of her would belong to him. And Lord Beckett would pursue her ruthlessly, unforgivingly, until Elizabeth was his.


End file.
